


Jack's Jealousy is the Monster Under the Bed.

by Sinbirdy



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jack, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Play, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Rope Bondage, Top Rhys (Borderlands)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24638284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinbirdy/pseuds/Sinbirdy
Summary: Rhys didn't think having lunch with Sasha was a big deal. Jack shows him later that night it absolutely was a big deal.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 66





	Jack's Jealousy is the Monster Under the Bed.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foppishaplomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foppishaplomb/gifts).



> Plot set up I couldn't be bothered to explicitly write:  
> \- Rhys takes A.I Jack and uploads him into a human body.  
> \- They both run Hyperion together, though Jack obviously considers himself the big boss of everything including Rhys.  
> \- Sasha and Fiona travel as honorary/trainee Vault Hunters.  
> \- Rhys and Jack are kind of dating but not really because neither of them have asked the other and they won't admit to it, but they've fucked before this.

Rhys is a heavy sleeper. In a lot of ways this is a good thing, especially when living around constant gunshots and psycho maniacs who save their tactical killings until 3am. It's easy enough for him to get his beauty sleep and wake up feeling young and spry, ready to take on another day working at Hyperion with his trigger itchy on-again-off-again lover, Handsome Jack. Taking on the role of vice president of the company had meant doing all the managerial duties Jack detests, so 8+ hours sleep is required to fully function.

So it makes sense he sleeps through Jack breaking into his bedroom. It makes sense he doesn't hear his quiet devious laugh as he pulls out the rope he'd brought specially for the occasion. Maybe it's a shock that Rhys also sleeps through Jack tying his hands and feet to the bedposts - Jack certainly didn't anticipate him to be such a heavy sleeper - but it's not so far from the realms of possibilities. Rhys being blissfully asleep while Jack takes advantage of the situation makes some kind of sense.

But it doesn't last. Eventually, when he senses something cold against his hip, his brain kicks into gear, and he slowly stirs himself awake. He blinks rapidly, smacks his mouth and feels drool at the corners of his lips, and slowly focuses his vision to see the culprit of his disturbance between his legs: grinning.

Rhys screams, embarrassingly more effeminate than he's proud to admit, and thrashes his body violently in an attempt to kick Jack. He doesn't realise his legs are tied until the rope restricts his movements. He keeps pulling anyway, tries with all his might to gain freedom and kick Jack right in the teeth for scaring him half to death. All he's rewarded with is rope burn and aching muscles. He ignores Jack's egregious chuckle.

"This is why I like you so much, Rhysie. Despite looking like a limp noodle and having no advantage over the situation what's so ever, you still fight back." Jack holds up the pocket knife for Rhys to see and places his other hand on his hip. "I did wonder how long it would take for you to wake up--"

"What the _hell_ are you doing here, Jack?! Why am I tied up?!" Rhys wriggles, trying to jerk Jack's hand away, but instead is met with his nails digging deeper into his hip bone. He glares at Jack, makes a point to mask any fear that rattles around his ribcage, and challenge the dominant stare burning holes through him. Suddenly he notices Jack's stark naked. "Why aren't you wearing anything?..."

"Did you just realise I'm-- God, you're an idiot!"

"No I'm not! My first priority was to get the fuck out of these ropes, not check whether you were dressed!" He convulses on the bed and practically growls in frustration when there's still no give on the ties around his limbs. Jack watches the display with glee, sitting back and enjoying the show as Rhys struggles valiantly to get loose, but to no avail. He should have known better - if Jack wanted him tied down and vulnerable, there's no way he'd leave any chance for Rhys to ruin that.

Eventually Rhys stops fighting against his restraints. He relaxes on the bed and pants heavily, staring up at the ceiling. Jack is unnervingly quiet, and the smug smile lifting his features hasn't budged an inch.

"I'm going to cut your boxers off now, Rhsie." Jack puts his hand back on Rhys' hip and positions the blade of his knife under the material at the leg. Rhys squirms slightly and Jack rolls his eyes. "Stop moving! I'll end up cutting you, and I'd rather not do that...though I'm not against the idea."

"What are you _doing_ , Jack?!" Rhys curves his hip to try get away from the knife but it's no use. He stares at it, glancing between the sharp blade pressed against the yellow of his clothing, and Jack's big hand gripping the handle. He's always loved Jack's hands, even now when they're threatening and overhwelming, he can't help but feel intrigued by their size and roughness. He pulls his eyes away to look back up at Jack. "Most people use common courtesy for a booty call and, you know, _call_ the other person first! Breaking and entering isn't my idea of forepla--"

Rhys is cut off when Jack smacks his palm over his mouth. The fun, cocky smile has dropped, and now he's scowling. Rhys can feel the cold metal of the blade against his thigh slide upward. He hears the gentle tear of seams pulling apart, feels the constriction of his boxers give way and free his skin. Jack does the same to the other leg then pulls the torn clothing away before removing his hand from Rhys' mouth. He scoffs when Rhys remains silent.

"I think I've been too good to you." Jack starts, tossing the knife on the bedside. "You blew me off for lunch today, for that girl-- what's her name? The one with the, uh," he gestures his hand around the top of his head, no defining motion to make sense of what he's doing. Rhys squints. "With the hair!"

"A lot of girls have hair, Jack."

"Don't get smart with me, cupcake! Or I swear to God I'll ring that scrawny neck of yours!" Jack cocks his jaw and exhales heavily. Rhys tenses his shoulders, annoyed by his own fear spiking, but keeps his face cool and collected.

"Sasha? That's who I had lunch with--"

"That's the one! Yeah, _her_ …" Jack rests his hands on Rhys' thighs and softly rubs them, leaning forward and looking down over his body. His eyes are hungry, eager, and like usual dangerous, and Rhys does his best to look intimidating. "The one you had the serious hots for."

"I didn't have the--" Rhys is cut off by his own embarrassing moan when Jack cups his balls in his hand. His eyes go wide and he glares at Jack, tensing up, trying to shuffle away. "Get the fuck off me!"

"I was inside your head, darling, remember?" He rolls Rhys' balls in his hand and laughs when the younger man squirms violently alongside a struggled moan. "The things you used to think about her were filthy! And then today you blew me off for the very one and only...made me wonder if maybe you'd finally gotten to act out those dirty fantasies of yours?"

Rhys really tries to escape, no one can fault him for that, but it's seemingly useless. He feels blinded by the whiplash of having awoken to a lustful nightmare, and the shock is as much a battle as the damn ropes are. Sasha asked him to lunch, yes, and Rhys told Jack he was busy, but it truly was as innocent as that. He was catching up with an old friend, nothing else. He thought Jack was uncharacteristically quiet when he returned, but he figured he was busy with CEO duties and boring work responsibilities. He didn't consider the possibility that he was stewing in jealousy; he definitely didn't consider Jack was planning revenge for a hypothetical situation he'd concocted inside his own head.

He moves his hands up and wraps his thick fingers around Rhys' cock and begins slowly stroking him, exaggerating the movement that it's almost like a candid scene from a badly dated porno. He holds himself with a coy confidence, eyes holding Rhys' attention, his skin flush from heat and arousal. He draws a long groan from Rhys' lips as a luscious wave of pleasure rolls up from his feet to his neck. Rhys feels betrayed by himself for enjoying the feeling. He doesn't want Jack to feel victorious, but it's hard to fight back when Jack's leisurely jerking him off, using the pad of his thumb to spread precum over the slit of his cock head. Rhys curls his toes, pulling against the restraints desperately. The tug against his ankle is akin to the pressure swelling deep in his stomach, spreading like fire through him.

Rhys rolls his feet in a circle and tenses his legs. He throws his head back, holds his breath in his chest. "Ja _~ack_ , stop…" He says on a heavy exhale.

Jack keeps pumping though. He's having too much fun winding Rhys up. He tightens his fist slightly so the pressure feels that much better. "You work with the most powerful man in the galaxy, who came back from the freakin' grave, but you waste your energy on dick tease number 2? You're an idiot."

"Who's dick tease number 1?" Rhys retorts, breathless, the venom barely registered though it's obvious in his glare. Jack scoffs, squeezing around the base of Rhys' shaft, making him yelp.

"Cute. Those sisters certainly caught your eyes before, but I think you need a reminder who you belong to really." He takes his hand away on an upward stroke and licks the slight dribble of precum off his fingers, maintaining eye contact with Rhys the whole time. Jack then starts crawling over Rhys' body, ignoring how the scrawny man struggles against the ropes and fights back, attempting to squirm away. He straddles Rhys' waist, pressed against his groin with his dick standing tall against the cleft of Jack's ass, and leans down so they're inches away from one another's face. "Why are you pretending you don't like this, kitten?"

Rhys bares his teeth as he practically growls and jerks again to try knock Jack off him. He fails miserably. "I shouldn't have to spell it out for you, but being tied up in my sleep by a genocidal maniac isn't something I like!" His voice cracks slightly to his dismay. "God, I knew you got jealous, but this is a whole new level of nutso!"

Jack snarls. His hand comes up to grip Rhys' jaw and he holds his attention with a vice like claw. His heterochromia eyes are terrifyingly intense this close, glimmering in the hell that is Jack's soul, and they burn through Rhys. This is Jack, it always has been - a man who masks his insecurities in an inferno, let's it get so out of control the blaze overwhelms even himself. Rhys adores him, unfortunately, he can't deny the facts of his love struck heart, but he hates how complicated Jack makes everything. He hates having to prove himself all the time to Mr Egotistical.

Worst of all, he hates how much he loves Jack's wild powertrips. He hates how sexy Jack gets when he's proving a point no one asked for.

Jack moves his thumb to swipe over Rhys' lip. Rhys tries to jerk his head away but Jack's stronger, digging his nails into his cheeks deeper to keep him in line. He loves how puffy and plush Rhys' lips are. He admires the glossy peach colour, thinks about kissing him breathless, sucking on them so they swell more. Rhys is beautiful, Jack thinks.

"You keep fighting me, but I know you want this. Your dick gives away that pretty poker face of yours."

"Dicks are dumb, Jack. If you knew anything about biology, you'd know a boner doesn't mean shit!" And sure, Rhys is right, technically, but he's also bluffing on a personal level. He hates Jack making him feel vulnerable, but he likes the danger, the excitement, and he loves Jack naked on his lap.

Jack finally let's go of his jaw and looks over his shoulder, briefly inspecting the scene. He hums thoughtfully. Rhys takes the opportunity to admire him fully. His eyes fall down his body and he lingers on Jack's thick, attentive cock between his legs. Jack's dick is pretty, surprisingly, though it can be considered personal bias on Rhys' part. It's thick, like his fingers but more, and it's easy to say he's well endowed. It twitches a little, looks painfully hard and desperate, and the dumb horny frat boy part of Rhys' brain wants to wrap his lips around the head and swirl his tongue around the tip, teasing him, cleaning up the precum.

He pulls his thoughts out the gutter and lifts his gaze to Jack's belly. Near to no one knows about Jack's weight, but that's because he's painted a pristine image of himself for the public, which involves washboard abs and a perfectly chiseled waistline. The truth is, after being revived and given a human body, Jack's appetite was insatiable. "Making up for lost time", he told Rhys, but the weight gain still had to be kept a deep dark secret. Right now, alone under the dim lighting of Rhys' bedroom, he can admire the soft hang of his belly, and adore the faint pink stretch marks running in his tanned skin. He's plush, and Rhys really wants to sink his teeth into the doughy flesh. His thighs, hips, chest - they're all delectably soft.

Jack leans over Rhys suddenly and reaches into his bedside table's drawer, haphazardly knocking around the things inside. Rhys huffs, wriggles again, pulls against the restraints on his wrists, but finds no luck. When Jack sits back up, he's holding a small bottle of lube in his hand. He squirts it into his palm and reaches back to lather Rhys' dick in a generous coating.

"Ah! Jeeze-- okay enough!" Rhys barks out angrily. Jack looks at him with an unimpressed expression, eyebrow cocked, hand still around his dick. "I didn't do anything with Sasha! She was only in town one day so I took her up on her offer of lunch so we could catch up. That's it! No sex happened. No sex has _ever_ happened, and it never will!"

There's a pregnant pause. The silence makes Rhys sweat, and he watches for any change in Jack's stance, whether good or bad it doesn't matter. After what feels like forever, Jack bellows out a loud laugh.

"The point still stands, cupcake, I need to make sure you understand you belong to me." He lifts himself up and scoots backward. Standing on his knees, he uses his hands to pull his ass cheeks apart and align himself with Rhys' cock. Rhys stutters on an uneven breath and pulls so hard on his wrist restraints the bedpost creaks. There's a threat he'll break free, but all that happens is Rhys' skin chaffs and turns pinker. Jack smirks deviously. "This cock of yours, Rhysie, is _mine_ and only mine." And to punctuate his point, he slams down on Rhys' dick, taking the full length and moaning out as his ass meets Rhys' bucked hips.

Rhys can't help but let out a strangled moan. He feels lust drunk with Jack's fat ass engulfing his dick, so tight and soft around his hard cock. It's almost velvety, the stretch, and burns something fierce in the best way possible. Where his thighs itch with fire, his cock feels cosy and warm, comfortable like relaxing in front of a fireplace. He throws his head back in his pillows and balls his hands up in a fist. He has to inhale deeply, catch his breath, find his centre…

Thankfully Jack doesn't move. He seems to be enjoying the full feeling, recovering from the sudden stretch he loves.

The quiet between them both is deafening. Rhys loves sex with Jack, because he well and truly loves Jack, but he doesn't like being forced into it. He hates with a burning passion how stubborn Jack is in asserting himself, that all lines are up for grabs in their battlefield. Rhys despises how people undermine him and treat him like a chew toy, and that extends to Jack no matter how much he likes him. He wants to be his equal, not his possession.

So he pulls against the restraints again, groaning as the thick rope cuts into his delicate skin and scratches him up viciously. His wrist feels like a twig on the verge of breaking, similarly do his ankles, but he keeps pulling. He grinds his teeth down, frustrated when there's no give, and curses when the burning ache becomes too much to handle. Even his cyborg arm, though void of any pain, admits defeat and falls limp and lifeless.

He's pulled from his thoughts by Jack's cold, wicked laughter. He's sat up, still sheathing Rhys cock in his ass, with his hands over his chest. His perfectly quaffed hair has fallen out of place and hangs over his face.

"You look pathetic." He huffs. He leans back and places his hands on Rhys' thighs. The curved angle allows Rhys to really appreciate his hard dick against his soft gut. He moves slowly, lifting an inch up then falling back down, repeating the action over and over again is slow succession. Rhys groans, sounding almost pained, and Jack chuckles through his heavy breathing. "This is what you like, ain't it, Rhysie? Admit it, princess, I love when you talk dirty."

"Fuck, Jack... you're insane..."

"Yeah yeah, I've heard it before, now move your hips and fuck me good. I'm not a patient man."

"Clearly!" Rhys shouts, pulling on the ropes to emphasise his point. He drops like dead weight when Jack dismisses him with a grunt. Jack keeps bouncing at a steady pace, barely bottoming out but making sure to drag each movement out that Rhys feels it burn through him. He tries to shift his hips and knock Jack's weight off balance, throw him on the floor with any luck, but to no luck. If anything, Jack enjoys it the more he tries to fight back.

Somewhere into Jack's stubborn grinding, his hard stone expression turns soft. His brows are raised, curved and almost meeting one another, and his eyelids start to fall lazy as the pleasure envelopes him. His mouth hangs open, and a chorus of moans fall from his mouth, the next being louder and more desperate than the last. Rhys watches in awe, obsessed with the rise and fall of Jack's chest, and the way his dick twitches more as he begins to bottom out more. He's cute - a word not many would dare use to describe Jack.

Instinctively Rhys wants to lay his hands on Jack. He wants to sprawl his hands over his thighs and squeeze lovingly, feel the plush give of his fat bulge in his palms. He wants to leisurely roll his hips and fuck into Jack while holding him down against his cock, watching the older tyrant unravel around him and fall into submission. In this situation, the best he can do is thrust upward and meet Jack's bouncing.

They find themselves a solid rhythm after a while. Rhys frowns, annoyed he's given into his wants, but drunk on lust that he can't help but give in. He tugs mercilessly on the ropes, so lost in passion he doesn't care about rope burn or pain. All he cares about is making Jack moan and watching him turn to jello. He bucks his hips more rapidly and does his best to hold Jack up, arching his back and trembling under the weight of Jack. The older man moans out loudly, digging his fingers deeper into Rhys' legs.

"You weigh a tonne," Rhys complains through laboured pants, lifting his head to glare at Jack, who simply chuckles off the comment and pat's his belly.

"You love it."

"Being crushed by your fat ass? No, I don't think I do!"

Jack tosses his hair out of his face and grunts, unaware he's begun swiveling his hips while grinding down against Rhys. He looks blissful in his frustration, like it's a chore to frown, to muster up annoyance, and all he really cares about is the sweet feeling of starry explosions every time Rhys hits his prostate. He's delectably tight, Rhys wonders how much Jack stretched himself beforehand, and if the pain of Rhys thrusting into him aids the pleasure along. Every time Jack pulls off of Rhys' cock before dropping down is like an adrenaline rush imprisoned in the pit of Rhys' stomach.

"You're mine, Rhysie, you got that? Mine, and only mine. You don't blow me off for some bitch!" The end of his sentence cuts like a knife, and Rhys is embarrassed to admit he flinches just slightly. Jack's so serious, it's awkward and uncomfortable, and he doesn't like him talking about his friends in such a way, but he knows better than to push back too hard.

Rhys groans. "You're insufferable. I didn't do anything with Sa--"

Jack falls forward suddenly and wraps his hands around Rhys' neck. He doesn't squeeze tight, but the pressure is enough of a warning. "Don't say her name!" He says with a threatening tone.

Rhys challenges Jack's anger with his own glare, bucking his hips more enthusiastically to fuck Jack hard. There was a struggle to make sure Rhys' cock remains sheathed by Jack's ass, but Rhys' vigorous thrusting assures them both it's all fine. It's tense, and Jack's the one who breaks it by crashing their lips together to make out with him. Rhys moans into his mouth, trying to hold back his eagerness but ultimately failing. He strains his neck to really kiss him like he means it, even bites his bottom lip before slipping his tongue in Jack's mouth. Jack can't help but smile against Rhys' lips.

They both get lost in the sloppiness of their sex. The loud sounds of panting and skin slapping together echoed around the room. Jack lazily chokes Rhys but barely puts any power behind his grip as he gets swept up in the heat, bowing his head to hide his face.

Rhys could feel himself getting close, the pressure in his balls tightening and his cock throbbing every time Jack bottomed out. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his hips picked up rapidly in speed, sloppy and desperate to punch Jack's prostate and feel the dragging of his shaft within the tight walls of Jack's asshole. The moaning is incessant, both men insatiable to reach their orgasm. Jack slams down on Rhys' cock harder each time, practically yelling now his moans are so loud.

Then Jack slams down fully and stills his hips, sitting up and clenching his fists against Rhys' chest. His orgasm tears through his body, rendering him dumb and useless, as ropes of cum spurt out of his cock and cover Rhys' belly. Jack tenses, and the feeling sends Rhys over the edge, joining him as he cums with a hard thrust deep in Jack's ass, holding his hips up until the sensation ceases. He watches as Jack's face softens, how he chews his bottom lip and his eyes draw inward before eventually collapsing against Rhys like dead weight. Rhys huffs out and breathes heavily.

They're quiet for a while, soaking up the moment, enjoying the euphoria before it shatters. Jack's breathing becomes heavy and even, and Rhys figures his drifting off asleep.

"Before you pass out, do you think you could untie my hands?!" He's not as mad as he was earlier, but the irritation is obvious. Jack hums thoughtfully, lifts his head to look him over, then scoffs.

"Later, after I nap."

"What?! No, Jack, now! Untie me now!"

"This is payback, kiddo. I'm gonna sleep and you're gonna shut up whining."

Rhys grimaces. "Wouldn't you rather clean yourself up first? Aren't you, uh…"

"I don't mind your cum in my ass, cupcake, now be quiet so I can sleep. The sooner I get some shut eye, the sooner I'll let you out."

Rhys tugs against the restraints again but it's as useless as it was before. He drops limp and signs heavily, his head falling against the pillow. He wishes he wasn't such a heavy sleeper after all, because maybe then he would have heard Jack coming before…

"Hay Jack?" Rhys says tenderly, lifting his head to look down at the sleeping man nuzzled against his chest. Jack cracks an eye open and hums. "You know you could have just asked to ride me and I would have said yes?"

Jack's quiet, then he grunts. "Don't blow me off again for lunch, got it?" And with that, he drifts off asleep, leaving Rhys exhausted and strung up.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fic trade with Sam. I hope you like! It was fun to write - probably not as mean as I'd wanted but the attempt was made!


End file.
